


but the stars that marked our starting fall away

by karcheri



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Geralt POV, M/M, Multi, and jaskier is her fun step dad, buckle up kids guess who loves two dumbasses and angst, gerlion is endgame, hand wavey ambiguous post season 1 timeline, my understaniding of the lure is confused pls bear with me, not really a love triangle, we love yennefer too though don't even try it, yennefer and geralt are like ciris amicably divorced parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:14:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcheri/pseuds/karcheri
Summary: “You don’t sing at all anymore.”A statement and not a question. Jaskier, bright as ever, with the finest of clothing on, carelessly flinging his many rings onto the table in his chambers hears it and spins around quick to face Geralt. Hands on his hips and tunic unbuttoned he smiles up at his companion and sighs wistfully, “Dearest Garalt if only we were all like you- but unfortunately the rest of must make due with the measly years we’re given, and if we fail enough at something eventually we must give it up,” and here he strips the tunic off completely and flails dramatically onto the bed, all while avoiding eye contact, “But look at it this way- one man’s failed bard is another man’s renowned bedwarmer!” A wink for good measure.- or, whilst Geralt and Yennefer are off raising Ciri and watching their romantic relationship deteriorate, Jaskier retires from bardship and becomes a royal bedwarmer and absolutely nobody is happy but they work it out
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 421





	but the stars that marked our starting fall away

“You don’t sing at all anymore.” 

A statement and not a question. Jaskier, bright as ever, with the finest of clothing on, carelessly flinging his many rings onto the table in his chambers hears it and spins around quick to face Geralt. Hands on his hips and tunic unbuttoned he smiles up at his companion and sighs wistfully, “Dearest Garalt if only we were all like you- but unfortunately the rest of must make due with the measly years we’re given, and if we fail enough at something eventually we must give it up,” and here he strips the tunic off completely and flails dramatically onto the bed, all while avoiding eye contact, “But look at it this way- one man’s failed bard is another man’s renowned bedwarmer!” A wink for good measure.

The Witcher raises an eyebrow as his friend bundles under the sheets with childlike fevor. All the motions have been made, all the pieces are there, and yet it feels as if he is talking to a shell- that the real Yaskier has been spirited off even from here and that his journey to find him is not yet done. But he strikes this idea down, because it is not magic, or a monster, or destiny that has put his friend down and Geralt can almost sense the effort of Jaskier trying his damndest to dredge up whatever is left from the reserve of his charm (like a claw, down the throat, past the heart) and fling it out into the room as if for it to land anywhere at all would be accomplishment enough. Overall, it feels like the Jaskier in front of him is playing at a hollow impression of the true Jaskier. Geralt is not impressed.

*

It takes him a while to realize that he is not having fun with Yennefer. It takes him longer still to remember that such things as fun, as easy, as gentle used to have no bearing on him. And it takes him even longer still to figure out why that is, and who he actually wants.

*

Not long after finding Ciri he must leave her where he found her in order to track Yennefer down. When he sits her down to explain this, still only half healed himself, she is saddened but she understands. Whatever bond they share, Yennefer has her part in it as well.

Before he goes he says, “Princess you are made of strong stuff, but you must do as I say now. Do not leave here until I return for you and do not talk to any strangers. You need to stay hidden. I will be back for you as soon as possible.”

Cirilla cries but nods her assent and while Geralt does not wish to leave her, he will not bring her into a warzone. Her protection is his top priority. When he says that he will come back for her he means and he can tell that she believes him without reserve. So much fragile faith for him to carry around in his hands- who else has ever given him such a thing? Only one other, but he is far gone now and not worth thinking about.

As he departs for Yennefer he can see Cirilla and the family back in the small house, watching him through a window. It upsets him for reasons he would rather not acknowledge.

*

Yennefer is war torn, cold, uncooperative, simultaneously relieved to see him and infuriated by his mere presence. He expects to find her still on the battleground, in dire need of assistance but instead runs into her collapsed by a tree in the middle of the forest, half way there. She is clearly exhausted, but just as beautiful as ever. 

He shakes her awake and tries to offer his hand to help her stand but is denied. Part of him wonders how long she can possibly be angry with him for and another tries to calculate their lifespans and just ends up angering himself in the process.

“Do not offer your help now Geralt of Rivia, I could do without it.”

He snorts and does not remove his offer, “Clearly.”

Yennefer ignores his hand and pushes herself up, rounding on him, “And what’s the meaning of that, Witcher?”

Geralt knows it’s a low blow before it leaves his mouth but he cannot help himself around her, “It means Nilfgaard is marching north,” and even as he says it through clenched teeth, with hard eyes, he feels young and out of control. Being with Yennefer, he thinks, is like being one step away from catching fire. The heat under his skin just barely containable. He doesn’t need to ask if it’s the same for her.

She calls him filth and a coward and he lets her push him up against a tree and they fuck until they’re both raw.

*

Yennefer comes back with him to meet Ciri who is positively delighted. They all spend one night recovering in the little house with the kind family and then in the morning Geralt thanks them for their generosity and loads Yennefer, who is still too weak to make a portal, and Ciri onto Roach and walks beside them until they reach the nearest safe town to find both work, and an inn. 

Once settled in Geralt leaves Ciri with Yennefer and head for the local tavern to get word on where he should consider heading next. This tavern is like any other- dim, stuffy, crowded. He buys a beer off the keep and heads to a table in the back, where he can easily overhear any conversations that might pertain to him. Rumors, sometimes true, sometimes false, and sometimes useless gossip, spread quickly among townsfolk. He rarely has to ask for information when an excited lad who has had one too many drinks will spill it without hesitation. But today there is only fear in the air. Quiet conversation and averted stares. How many villages has Nilfgaard wiped out or otherwise absorbed now and who is next? 

He has passed and hour and three beers when he decides to call it. There is nothing for him to learn today. He is just standing up when the singing starts and he recognizes Jaskier’s work from miles off. ‘Her Sweet Kiss,’ Geralt decides, is his least favorite work of Jaskier’s, though the tiny girl singing it does a well enough job. The bard must be doing good for himself, to have copycats.

Geralt is tempted to ask her if she’s seen him, how he’s doing, anything she can give but he forces himself to leave rather than face the embarrassment of going down that road. Unfortunately for him, the little bard girl spots him and runs out after him.

“You’re the White Wolf! Geralt of Rivia- Yes?,” and she piles on before he can even answer, “That’s amazing, yes, how lucky to run into you,” -and the tiny little thing has positioned herself to block the doorway so he can’t leave without having to use force-, “Listen, I know he’s retired now and being paid to sleep with a king or something but if you run into him again can you please give him this for me?”

The girl is practically out of breath by the time she’s finished and she pulls out a paper with, “Julian Alfred Pankratz,” in messy scrawl at the top. Geralt takes the paper and nods at her hoping she’ll leave, and she happily skips off with her own lute but not before quite literally tossing a coin at him and dashing off again before he can give it back to her.

He reads the paper and tries to make sense of what she told him. He comes to the conclusion that she has misinterpreted whatever she’s heard about Jaskier. He finds the idea of Jaskier being either retired or a prostitute laughable, same as he finds the idea of himself being Jaskier’s glorified fan letter delivery man laughable.

On the walk back to the inn he has to sqaush down the worry that lingers in the back of his mind. He reassures himself he will ask in the next town and be told that Jaskier is off being a general nuisance per usual, but regardless he folds the letter over and tucks it in his bag (at no point will he count how many times he pulls it out and reads it, how many creases were created by him before it ever makes it to Jaskier’s hands.).

Back at the Inn he finds Yen recovered, combing her hand through Cirilla’s hair and regaling her with the few intriguing stories from her time at court. Yennefer cares as greatly for Cirilla as he does. She is their common ground, their neutral territory. If feels both right and wrong.


End file.
